Fireworks. Yummy! Remember, remember at this time of year…
Piles of Summer’s gold-leaf calling cards scattered in the gutter, dropped as he hurried on his way to warmer climes.
Enter stage left, with the sudden curtain-drop of night as the clocks mysteriously go backward: October in a black cloak glinting with stars, and a pointed hat on her head. Cobwebs hang in circular expansions of dewy light, pumpkins grimace; and then the curtain rises to reveal the luminous magic of lighted fires licking ice from the cold air.
If October was a witch, then November is a stage magician.
See him now: flickering his light on open-mouthed, upturned faces hot with expectation at the magic he will pull from the empty air. As you watch, feel how the soil you are standing on is soft beneath your feet. Notice the crazy-quilt effect of scattered leaves on the fields: the earth is pulling up its winter duvet, preparing a place for small warm creatures to sleep. And then…
“First the wind’s light touch
blew paper-dry withered leaves down,
Then it was time to light blue touch paper
– and fire leaps up all around!”
At last, the ecstatic explosion of bombs on sticks, the fizz, the whizz the bang.
November’s here.
Explosions in the air. What fun!
Fireworks. Yummy! Remember remember, childhood times of kicking leaf-lined gutters and seeing the gold-leaf calling cards of the summer dropped on the floor as it rushed to go? The sudden blackness of night as the clocks mysteriously went back, and the magic of lighted fires. Golden flames little suns to ward of the winter a little while longer. The ecstatic explosion of bombs on sticks, the fizz, the whizz the bang. Light blue touch paper. Retire. Always
